


Appearances Can Be Deceiving

by auburn



Series: Thawed Out [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Coda, Gen, Humor, M/M, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6661798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auburn/pseuds/auburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-Thawed Out ficlet where a variety of people don't realize who James Barnes is or how he's connected to the Avengers and keep drawing the wrong conclusions and absolutely nothing awful happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearances Can Be Deceiving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eretria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eretria/gifts).



> I feel like I need to mention that this is not a serious story, it's just a little amusement I threw together for the wifey's not-birthday that ended up not finished until Christmas and has sat around since. I know nothing about nothing, especially MIT. It hasn't been beta-ed. My apologies for that. It just seems like with Cap 3 looming, it's the time to get this out there, before all our brains are hijacked.

**Once**

Professor Bjorn Frohmeyer enjoyed his job at MIT. By the time his students reached him, the slackers and dilettantes had all been weeded out. He had, frankly, been peeved when he was told BB James would be taking his class. BB James had no academic history that Frohmeyer could unearth.

Oh, the digital records were there. He suspected hard copy records were also in place. But he could find no one real and alive to talk to who had ever taught or known BB James.

BB James was a false identity or Bo Fro (as his own classmates had dubbed him years before) was a monkey.

When he protested this to the Engineering School's Dean, Fro was told to shut up. The Maria Stark Foundation was donating an entire new building powered by an arc reactor along with a lump sum that was going to pay for new equipment for the next ten years. The sole caveat: BB James had to be accepted into the engineering fast track.

He swore he wouldn't go easy on the interloper.

It turned out BB James didn't need anyone to go easy on him. He absorbed everything Fro had to teach effortlessly. It was annoying. 

So was the way several of his normally sane and sensible students sighed over James. If he overheard one more of them rhapsodizing about James' eyes or his mouth, Fro might have to throw up. He'd really thought Sunil and Margarete were more mature.

James ignored all of it. He appeared to be in class to learn. It was nearly the only saving grace of the situation. It would have been, because Fro genuinely liked teaching, if only he hadn't begun to suspect James both knew more and was smarter than him.

So his ego got in the way a little and he tended to pick on James in class, which lead to his TA suddenly not doing any of the little extra things Sunil had always taken care of for Fro before and all of his candy bars disappearing from his desk and half of the class glaring at him. James didn't even appear affected, which just added to Fro's frustration.

He'd mostly settled into a state of steady irritation, alleviated by the prospect of not having to deal with James again once he graduated, when Fro realized exactly why the Maria Stark Foundation was basically paying for BB James' education.

James kept everyone at a distance despite the attempts at flirting. A genuine distance, Fro meant, the man didn't let people touch him or nearer than necessary. Several of the girls were obnoxiously persistent, though, and on one day Mary Beth managed to trip over Allison's laptop backpack and knock Margarete into James.

James caught her before she could fall; the man had shockingly fast reflexes. Margarete caught his hand in hers and then she frowned as her nails caught in his skin. Except it wasn't skin, it was some sort of faux flesh glove and it peeled away to reveal a gleaming metal prosthetic.

Fro had seen James use that hand with the same precise control as his other (provided that was flesh and blood and Fro couldn't be sure, the fake was that good). Prosthetics that advanced weren't on the market. They weren't even on the radar for the future yet. 

Unless you got to play in the Stark Industries R & D labs or were personally acquainted with Tony Stark.

There were, Fro decided, two possibilities. One, James had been injured and lost his arm due to Stark Industries or Stark himself and the prosthetic and education were a pay-off to keep him quiet. Two, James actually had developed the prosthetic himself and SI meant to snap him up as soon as he had a degree.

James tugged the glove, which itself had to be an advanced holo-mimetic material that Fro itched to examine, back together again and gave Margarete a dead-eyed look that had her stumbling back faster than she'd (deliberately) fallen forward onto him.

Fro almost laughed. No one in class went moon-eyed over James after that. James seemed at worst unaffected and at best relieved. Fro went back to teaching, pushing James in particular, harder than ever, but without the hostility.

Things went on like this for four weeks, until Fro realized there was a third possibility the day Tony Stark showed up as class let out.

Fro was winding up his lecture. There were five minutes on the clock, but it was Friday, and even his dedicated students were restless, their minds already on the weekend, even if that weekend would be spent in front of a computer, mainlining Red Bull and Monster and failing to shower. He'd just started to tell them what they'd be covering come Monday when the door to the classroom slapped open and Tony Stark rushed in like a tornado. The man had diamonds on his sunglasses frames. They could have been rhinestones, but this _was_ Tony Stark. The stones flashed in the gold settings as Stark whipped them off and scanned the room, dark eyes intent until they settled on James.

"James," Stark blurted as he rushed across the room, utterly ignoring Fro and the chaos that seemed to roil in his wake. "Jamie, Jimmy, Jimbo, my favorite among the kittens, my BB King – "

James had already risen to his feet and begun gathering his things – notably the state of the art (and possibly beyond that) Starkpad he took notes on. "Tony," he greeted Stark with admirable calm. The rest of the class might be oohing and aahing like a naked supermodel had been dropped down among them, but James didn't seem impressed. Fro was impressed by that.

Stark reached James and wrapped his arms around him. James was significantly taller than Stark. (He looked taller on TV and in the armor.)

James froze, scanned the room, and then hugged Stark back.

So it was like that. Fro had thought Stark was involved with the CEO of SI, but the man had a reputation for going through inamoratas like Kleenex. Certainly James was handsome enough and smart enough to engage Stark both physically and mentally. Fro scowled. He hoped Stark didn't grow tired of James and drop him like so many others; James was too bright and talented. As much as he'd resented having James foisted on him, now Fro found himself feeling almost protective of him.

He cleared his throat. "This class is still in session, Mr. Stark." A glare put all the other students back in their seats.

Stark raised his eyebrows at him. "There's no way anyone here was still paying attention on a Friday, Frohmeyer." His attention switched back to James, who had finished and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Come on, there's a quinjet waiting for us and by us, I mean you – "

"What happened this time?" James demanded as they started for the door. 

Stark wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "Tell you in a minute – " They were out the door before he finished.

**Twice**

Margarete had begun to believe James must be gay. Not because Tony Stark had swept him out of class one day. There had been zero chemistry between them. But there was zero chemistry between any of the girls in class and James. Of course, Sunil had the hots for him too, but Sunil was Professor Frohmeyer's TA and too uptight to even let his attraction show, never mind making a move. So there was no way to know if James would respond any better than he had to Margarete.

After all, usually when she did the stumble-and-fall-into-his-arms schtick, even guys who were involved responded a little. But she'd pressed herself against James' very, very ripped body and all he'd done was tense and then push her away. A definite brush off that left her feeling a bit like pigeon poop and a lot like she was going to wet her pants when she got a glimpse of his eyes.

She stopped whining and moaning that James hadn't noticed her after that and felt grateful she hadn't interested him. Great White Sharks had more emotion in their gimlet gaze than James did in that moment.

Not registering on James' radar became an up point from that day on, though he was always scrupulously polite to her and anyone else who spoke to him. Not that many people did, because James didn't encourage conversation. She'd thought he was just shy, but now his quiet struck her more like that of a big predator.

Silent hunter, yeah. No, she was not exaggerating. James was one scary guy if you looked close. A lot of girls thought scary and dangerous were hot, but not Margarete. She didn't get into MIT by being stupid about that kind of thing.

The funny – not really – thing was Margarete couldn't point out one thing that James did to support her wariness of him. Not being attracted to her didn't make someone a potential serial killer. It didn't even make them a dick; she'd dated enough dicks to know. It was just some visceral instinct.

So she'd decided he had to be gay. Liking guys was the only reason he had to be why he wasn't at least a little interested in her. Even married guys paid attention to her – well, her body – but not James. So, James had to be gay.

And the day she told Sunil that, James proceeded to blow all her assumptions about him, cold, reserved, dangerous, humorless, gay… right out of the water.

She was dawdling on the way out of the Building 14. (Margarete loved the MIT numbering system; not only did it make navigating the campus easier, it served as a sort of an in-joke, appreciated by students, teachers and alumni. You didn't know MIT if you didn't know its buildings were known by number.) The Hayden library didn't have much that applied to her own studies, but it had been a handy spot to rendezvous with Bill, her Humanities boyfriend, before their date, only he'd cancelled on her. He'd forgotten some essay he needed to finish before Monday. As a result, she didn't have a backpack full of books and her laptop for once and her hair was in a fancy chignon instead of a sloppy braid. She was even wearing heels. She looked good, good enough half her classmates wouldn't recognize her if she tripped and fell on them. All that effort for nothing. 

She'd decided to go out without Bill. Maybe she could find someone hot and smart to throw herself at for the night. Maybe she'd find someone who would appreciate her more than Boring Bill. She was tired of his breast fetish anyway.

Okay, she'd admit it, the trip thing, it was her gimmick. When you had a rack like hers, you could get pissed that no one ever looked above it or you could work it. She worked it.

She'd also admit that staring with her mouth, however nice her lipstick, hanging open did nothing for her. It just knocked her socks off, seeing James, the guy she'd pegged as being into guys, sweep some tall woman into a hug. A model-thin woman in Italian high fashion, pretty spring colors, a Hermès scarf, and Louboutin heels that Margarete salivated over. He kept his arms around her too. Margarete was so close she would have said something if James or the woman had even noticed her.

For Margarete, it was hate at first sight.

God, Margarete didn't know what to envy the most, the woman's elegant height and money, not to mention that she was beautiful, or the way James loosened up in her presence. He was smiling. With crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes and creases that doubled as dimples, and ducking his head and then kissing the redhead's cheek.

Margarete couldn't move, she was that shocked. It was like looking at someone completely different with just the same body. If she wasn't an engineering student, she'd have been thinking about multiple personalities or demonic possession.

Oh, and the worst thing was: James was about six million times sexier smiling than all tense and buttoned-up.

Someone bumped into her from behind and Margarete made herself start down the stairs again. Not everyone understood she was witnessing something earth shattering.

Well, just shattering her preconceptions, but either way, she didn't want to get pushed down the stairs and end up sprawled at the feet of James and his redhead.

It brought her close enough to hear at least part of their conversation. Margarete didn't stop and listen. She still remembered how chill James' gaze could turn. No need to invade their privacy. She had her pride anyway and eavesdropping was just tacky.

" – we're going shopping," the woman said.

"Pepper!" James protested. Margarete had never heard that sort of fond or teasing tone to his voice. He usually sounded flat and almost mechanical.

"You're coming to the party with me and you need a new tuxedo – "

"He's going to hate it."

"And I want your opinion on the gift Tony picked. I think it's all right, but you know better what Steve likes – "

"Now."

"Exactly."

Margarete couldn't hear any more after that. Not that it mattered.

She'd have to tell Sunil he was out of luck too.

**Three Times**

Sunil had given up even the fantasy of James sometime after Margarete told him about seeing James with a girlfriend. It had only ever been a fantasy, anyway. Sunil wasn't about to get involved with a student, especially a student who had the kind of connections who could strong-arm both Professor Frohmeyer and the MIT Dean of Engineering. (He'd heard enough about that from Professor Frohmeyer. Over and over again.)

James was dangerous. If you got on his wrong side, who knew who he'd talk to? No, Sunil swore to himself to keep his distance and just admire.

Because there was a lot to admire about James, even if someone had pulled strings to get him into MIT. He was smarter than the rest of his class, he got everything Frohmeyer was teaching and picked it apart without making Frohmeyer look dumb, and did the work for the class on time. If he didn't socialize with his classmates, it was because he clearly had his own life already. The guy knew Tony Stark personally; that was a level of society the rest of them weren't ever going to reach, no matter what they dreamed they were going to do.

So Sunil wasn't lingering at the front of the class room after everyone but James had left for any reason other than to reorder the contents of his messenger back so he could fit in the three different paper journals with articles he wanted to read, his laptop and the grading from the other class he TA-ed. He sniffed at the interior suspiciously before shoving anything in, because there had been that time he forgot about a sandwich he'd thoughtlessly stuffed inside his last bag until it went squishy and foul. He'd sworn no more food in his bag after that, but he routinely forgot that rule too.

James was still seated, hunched over his Starkphone and scowling at the screen.

Sunil latched his bag closed, ignored how the seams were stretched to the max, and shouldered the strap, immediately wincing. He glanced over at James again, hoping he'd finish soon, so Sunil could lock up the class room.

James glanced up and realized Sunil was waiting on him. He stuffed the Starkphone into his pocket and grabbed the rest of his things. They stepped out into the corridor and Sunil made sure the door lock had engaged. There was enough valuable equipment inside, even though it was a class room and not a lab, that they needed to be careful.

"Sorry I kept you," James said.

"No problem," Sunil said. "Was there something I could help with?"

James scowled again. "I've got four different Asian markets on this thing and not one of them says whether they have organic fennel pollen or urfa biber. I'm going to end up going to all of them and still being shit out of luck." James' hair had come loose from his ponytail and he absently tucked a long lock behind his ear. "I don't know why I have to cook for everybody. It's not just when they come here. It's back at the tower, every morning, or I end up having to drink one of Bruce's disgusting protein smoothies."

Sunil didn't know who Bruce was, but he hated smoothies himself, so it was nice to be able to help James out. "I know a market where you can get everything you need."

James graced Sunil with a beautiful, delighted smile. "I'll owe you. Bruce spent a lot of time in India, so when he cooks for us, he does dishes from there, but no one else cooks any for him. I thought I'd give it a try."

"Even though you always have to cook?" Sunil teased.

James ducked his head. "I don't mind, really. It's all… " He stopped and looked sad. "Bruce made me all those awful smoothies when I couldn't eat anything else. I like doing something for him in return."

Sunil repressed the urge to ask about James not being able to eat. There were so many reasons, he couldn't guess. He sometimes suspected James was a veteran. He could have been wounded and recovering on a limited diet for medical reasons. Or could have an eating disorder. None of it was Sunil's business unless James wanted to share.

"Here, give me your phone, I'll put in the number and address for Ling's," he said.

James handed over the Starkphone. He hadn't locked it, so it woke to the last app he'd had open. Sunil didn't mean to read the texts on the screen, but he hadn't gone into science because he lacked curiosity, after all.

_Dinner?_

_I'd rather stay in._

_Even better. I'll cook._

_Spicy?_

_Spicy as you like it. I'll even fix you breakfast._

Sunil found James' contacts and tapped in the info for Ling's from memory, then handed the phone back to him. He figured the texts had to be from the Bruce person James wanted to please. 

Well, it was good to know James was in a happy relationship. Though he thought Margarete had said girlfriend. She wasn’t usually that much of a ditz.

"Thanks again," James said. "See you tomorrow."

 

**A Maybe**

Jamie Bieber liked his new neighbor across the hall. James had accepted his introduction without a single crack about annoying Canadian imports. He didn't even blink. James had turned out to be a quiet neighbor too, no parties or loud arguments ever echoed from his place, and no garbage smells. 

He had, in that strange osmotic way that occurs without ever really having a conversation, found out James was studying some kind of fancy engineering stuff at MIT, along with the fact that he was only really in his apartment three to four nights a week and commuted to a job or a girl/boyfriend's place in New York the rest of the time. Maybe both. Maybe all three. Jamie knew that because he'd caught up with James in the foyer and apologized for the loud party the weekend before and James had shrugged it off, saying he wasn't there that night or most weekends. Jamie's offer to water any plants or feed and take care of any pets had made James' mouth twitch in an almost smile, even as he brushed off the offer as unneeded.

It did put him in good with James though, which didn't gain Jamie anything but was a hell of a lot nicer than having a neighbor that ranted and howled and threw bags of shit down the stairs after his water was turned off. Jamie knew that was specific. He'd given up his last apartment specifically because of that asshole.

So the sight of a redhead in skin-tight biker leathers (either that or a dominatrix catsuit, but that only occurred to Jamie later) walking into the lobby with James didn’t alarm him. She was objectively the hottest woman Jamie'd ever seen, but something in her expression had his balls trying to crawl all the way back to the womb. He would not have pegged her as James' type.

But it wasn't any of his business, so he nodded as they crossed the lobby, and went back to sorting the junk from his mail and wishing he could trash the latest reminder on his student loans along with the new credit card offers. Or that the credit card offers had limits high enough to pay off the loans, but then he'd have to pay off the credit cards. Sometimes he really regretted the Master's degree. He was going to die in debt.

He didn't think about his neighbor again until something crashed against the wall in James' apartment so loud it woke Jamie up. Awake, he could hear thumps, muffled yells, and then some sort of a sizzling sound.

And, okay, he really didn't want to be an asshole, but that sounded electrical and what if there was a fire?

Jamie found his old tennis shoes and a hoodie to go with his Yoda-patterned pajama pants and headed into the hall to knock on James' door. He listened for anything else happening, hoping for some excuse to shuffle back into his apartment and pass out again until morning. Later in the morning, because three-forty-three a.m. was just too damn early to be anything but night.

Instead he got a moan, another sizzle, a couple of grunts, and a yowl like someone had lit a cat on fire. Jamie was starting to get worried. He sort of wished he'd brought his baseball bat. If he'd had a baseball bat. All he really had that you could whack someone with was a broom. Somehow, that just didn't seem like an image he wanted to perpetuate. Interfering neighbor with broom complaining about the noise.

Be quieter or I'll sweep you up. Sure.

He couldn't hear anything from the apartment now, but he was up and out, and vaguely worried, because James was so normally quiet. He squared his shoulders and knocked lightly.

After a long enough wait that Jamie was debating knocking again (or just giving up and slinking back to his apartment), the door opened a crack. 

James didn't open the door far. Jamie couldn't see inside. He could only see maybe one side of James.

"Sorry for the noise," James said before Jamie could even speak.

Jamie shrugged, flustered, because James didn't have a shirt on and those were some serious muscles. What he could see of him anyway, which was one shoulder and arm and – Jamie's face went hot with a blush – handcuffs. Broken handcuffs. And he thought that was a bruise darkening James' jaw.

"Yeah, it's – you're usually so quiet. Are you okay?"

James eyes widened before he nodded and answered tersely. "Yes. Sorry again." There was a scuffle and another thud somewhere behind him.

"Hurry up, James," came a smokey woman's voice from deeper in the apartment. Then a squawk and some muffled words that might have ended with, " – and stay down." But Jamie couldn't be sure. And surely it was just James and his abnormally intimidating girlfriend inside?

Unless, Jamie suddenly thought, there was like a _home invasion_ going on. Oh my God, maybe she wasn't James' girlfriend at all. Maybe she had a gun aimed at him right now! His eyes widened. He mouthed, _'Nod if I need to call the cops.'_

James quirked a quick smile though and shook his head.

Okay. Jamie only felt a little disappointed he wasn't going to be a hero. Mostly he was relieved, because no one wanted to deal with the cops if they don't have to.

"Um. Sure. Sorry I interrupted – " What must have been some wild, kinky sex. James had a scratch on his chin, no shirt, and was sweaty and out of breath. Jamie thought embarrassment might permanently cripple him. Also, he was definitely jealous. He'd never had a girlfriend who got him hot or loud enough to annoy the neighbors. Of course, he'd never had a girlfriend who was into handcuffs either. He thought of the get-up the redhead had been wearing and wondered if she was James' girlfriend after all or maybe a professional. His face burned hotter. He needed to go run his brain through a cold bleach shower before his mouth filter failed.

He backed up, holding his hands up. "I'll let you – I mean, I'll go – Um, never mind, going back to my apartment now."

James gave him a tiny nod and the door clicked shut. Jamie scrubbed his hands over his face. He could feel the heat coming off his cheeks. Jesus. 

He shuffled back to his own door and reached for the knob.

Which didn't turn in his hand. 

Jamie jiggled it again, even knowing it was futile. The door had locked behind him. Which would be fine if he had his key. But Jamie could clearly picture his keyring in the bowl on his dresser, along with his wallet, right next to his phone on the charger. In his bedroom, in his apartment, behind the door that just locked him out in the hall.

Still holding the door knob in his hand, Jamie whacked his forehead against his door, then swore in pain. The door number screwed into the door hurt. He rested against it for a long minute anyway.

Shit. 

Slowly, reluctantly, Jamie turned around and looked at James' door. 

They couldn't be back at it already, could they?

Please don't let them be in the middle of… something already.

With a deep sigh, he took the steps necessary to reach the door and knock again. "Uh, James, I'm really sorry – " You have no idea how sorry. " – but I locked myself out of my apartment. Could I use your phone to call the super?" he called out.

The silence stretched so long Jamie began to think James wasn't going to answer, but then the door clicked and opened a crack.

It wasn't James though; it was the redhead.

She eyed him for a moment, then slithered out into the hall in a move Jamie couldn't really follow. She was still in the catsuit and she had a coil of thin rope over one shoulder.

"Uh, phone?" Jamie said weakly.

Her lips curved in amusement. "That would take too long." She hip-checked him out of the way and looked at his door knob before laughing. 

"Uhm… "

Jamie watched, mouth ajar, as the redhead withdrew a small flat case from a pocket he hadn't even guessed anything that skintight could hide, took out two thin steel things that looked like something his dentist would use, and slid them both into the keyhole in the door knob. Oh. Oh. Those weren't dental picks.

They were lock-picks.

And in the time it took him to figure that out, she had his door open. "Told you," she said, patted his arm, and disappeared back into James' apartment while Jamie was still figuring out that not only was James in some kind of kinky arrangement with a smoking dominatrix, she was also some kind of lock-picking ninja.

"Thanks," he said to the empty hall way.

He did finally manage to go back to sleep, despite the sounds of helicopters and jets and a sort of weird hum-roar outside the building, plus people marching up and down the hall, and then slept through his alarm, and only managed to get out the door and into work on time by skipping his usual routine of coffee and breakfast while listening to the overnight news.

The sound bite about the Iron Man and Black Widow sightings and rogue WSC agents being arrested during the night for trying to kidnap an American citizen that played on the evening news wasn't enough to make him look away from watching his TV dinner rotating in the microwave later, either. 

He didn't realize James had moved out until a couple of days later. He figured James had probably moved in with the hot redhead.

After all, who wouldn't? She looked a lot like the Black Widow.

**Some People Are Amused**

Sunil was killing time with his phone, waiting for Frohmeyer to finish whatever email he was hammering out, and the class had mostly all filed in, though it was still five minutes from the start of his hours. It had begun to rain, clouds rolling in out of nowhere after a sunshine filled morning, and thunder boomed repeatedly, rattling the windows and flickering the lights. Someone giggled and said it was 'Thor' weather.

James was in his usual place, unsurprisingly. James usually prowled in early and checked out the classroom like he expected it to be booby-trapped. Sunil had started to think James was _still_ military and not ex, because he hid it pretty well, but he was always on alert.

Margarete was in her usual spot, rubbing her arms and scowling at the windows, likely because she'd dressed for the sunshine in short-sleeves. She angled a moony look toward James periodically, despite knowing he was off the market. Sunil rolled his eyes at her.

Dan and Jerry were intent on something on Dan's new phone; the volume was low, but Sunil could hear enough so that he thought it was a news report. Bailey leaned over too and swore. "That's my neighborhood. Crap, and that's the Hulk. Hope I have an apartment to go home to."

"Yeah, because your collection of curb side and Goodwill furniture is irreplaceable," Lavera commented. "I don't mind moving if the other option is being turned into some kind of mind controlled crocodile monster."

"They look more like dinosaurs," Dan said.

"Do I look like I care if they are dinosaurs or alligators or giant iguanas, Peritti?" Lavera snapped.

"Yeah, I now, but look there – when Cap takes down that one on the left? The guy who flies on top of the dumpster? That's Sauron. He turns people in dinosaurs."

James looked up from his StarkPad at that.

Frohmeyer was just closing his laptop when a pretty girl, in boots and a purple sweater, her curly brunette hair tumbling out from under a Captain America beanie, skidded into the class room.

"James!" she said as soon as she found him at the back corner of the room. "Am I glad I could find you! Everyone else is off – " she cast a wide, dark-eyed glance around the room and blatantly replaced whatever she'd started to say, " – you-knowing, even Bruce and Thunder Buns, and Jane's in Milwaukee. Don't ask why, but I got stuck babysitting Erik again. I'm supposed to drop him off at the school in half an hour and he's having another no-pants day."

James began stuffing his things back in his bag. 

"I tried talking to him and bribing him and I swear I'm ready to Taser him, because he started throwing his meds at me, so could you do me a solid and come help me catch him and make him put on some clothes at least?" She fingered her hair and made a face, pulling out a blue and green gel cap from of the strands with her finger and thumb. " – And by threw, I mean spit. I'm afraid he's going to head for the roof and try to, uhm – " Another glitchy self-edit made her words stumble, " – try to jigger the microwave into a laser gun or something."

"What do you need me to do?" James asked calmly. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door, ignoring his goggling class mates and Frohmeyer's deepening scowl.

"Hold him down while I pull a pair pants on him?" She said it with an air of skeptical disgust.

James just raised an eyebrow.

Sunil was a little surprised that James was willing to walk out on class just to help a ditzy babysitter handle some kid, but James wasn't as worried about passing grades as the rest of them. He had some kind of job waiting for him at SI and everyone knew that while SI paid the most, offered the best benefits, and had the best work environment, working at SI meant working for Tony Stark and rumor was the weird rubbed off like newspaper ink. Plus, there were the Avengers hanging around Stark Tower and weird supervillains – like Sauron – popping out of the sewer and deep space and other dimensions like the place was a magnet, if you ended up working there.

James just seemed so quiet and unassuming. He cooked breakfast for his boyfriend. Even the whole Michael Jackson one glove thing was just sad; the guy had a very good prosthetic but that still meant he had lost a hand.

But now this girl was here, recruiting him to go put pants on someone's kid. It seemed weird (there was that word again), but James was older than pretty much everyone else going to school. He was old enough to have kids or know people who had them.

"If he won't come down for you, you can shoot him with a tranq," the girl said.

Sunil wondered if _she_ worked for SI.

"I don't have any tranq darts here, Darcy," James told her.

She smiled brightly. "That's okay. Clint got me some for when I don't want to use my Taser."

They disappeared out the door without a backward glance then, and Sunil was left to contemplate the last thing James had said, which wasn't, _I don't have a gun_ or _I don't have any darts_. It was _I don't have any here._

Also, what kind of kid needed to be shot with a tranquilizer dart?

 

**A Sure Thing**

Amy had been contemplating – theoretically – hitting on Sad Eyes, the beautiful guy with the wounded, blue-gray eyes who came in to Alice's All Organic Hot Drink Emporium every other day. He was working his way through the variety of teas, coffees, and tisanes available, though he usually had a second cup of simple peppermint tea after whatever he tried, while he sat in the badly lit, pinched table in the back corner by the kitchen and read a book or messed with his phone. He was always super courteous to her and left great tips.

He was great fantasy fodder. Never came in with anyone, girl or boy friend or buddies or co-workers. So Amy could dream a little, even if he was definitely out of her league. She liked to imagine he'd smile at her and say something about nerving himself up to ask her out if she ever went over and offered him her phone number.

But she had to give up that fantasy, because today someone else had come in and walked up to Sad Eyes' table. And wasn't he a picture: blond, buff, and super serious looking. He dragged a chair over and sat down at Sad Eye's table.

And Sad Eyes didn't look so sad. He was smiling at Blond and Buff, even when B&B reached over and stole a sip from his cup of tea.

Amy sighed to herself. She should have known. All the good ones were gay.

 

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Appearances Can Be Deceiving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368404) by [madnads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnads/pseuds/madnads)




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